In Defense of Heath
by Jellico
Summary: One-shot WHIB for Season 1, Episode 10, "The Murdered Party". Nick is far from happy that Heath has been beaten by Jake Kyles and two of his sons, and he's even more angry with Jarrod for taking Korby's case. In typical Nick fashion, he has a thing or two to say about it, and if the whole house overhears how he feels, so be it.


A rifle butt in the kidneys.

A knee in the face.

And who knew how many punches.

Nick mashed his lips together as he glanced over at his sleeping brother, his grip on his pistol tightening once more. Sitting in the dark by Heath's bedside the way he was, Nick couldn't see clearly anymore the evidence of those injuries, but he could catalog them so easily in his mind's eye; the bruises and cuts were hard to dismiss now that they were embedded in his memory. They weren't serious compared to what might have happened, that was true, but he still wasn't likely to forget their mother's cry when Heath stumbled into the house then collapsed in the foyer. He also wasn't ready to shrug off the fury he'd felt once he'd charged down the stairs then got a good look himself at the battered state of his younger brother.

_Those Kyles!_

_Those stinking, thieving, no good Kyles!_

Who the devil did they think they were attacking a Barkley like that and on Barkley land? For just half a cent, Nick would have ridden over there tonight and taught them a thing or two about touching another hair on Heath's head, but he'd promised Jarrod he wouldn't, that there would be no vigilante justice before the trial. After the trial was another matter though, boy, was it going to be another matter. When that time came, not Mother, not the sheriff, not even Heath himself would be able hold Nick back ... and as for Jarrod, well, _he_ better not even try.

Jarrod. Hmph.

At the thought of his lawyer brother and the decision he'd made this very night to actually defend Korby Kyles of the murder of Colonel Ashby, Nick's nostrils began to flare. He scowled at the shadows across the room then bolted from the rocking chair he'd been stationed in to pace at the foot of Heath's bed, wishing to God he could punch something. What the devil did Jarrod think he was doing making such a crazy announcement? He had no business defending a Kyles of anything, not after what the whole rotten bunch had done to Heath in the smithy. They were sickle-hocked that family, more crooked than a snake in a cactus patch and three times as dishonest. The hardest work any one of them had ever done was take a long squint at the sun or a quick squat in the shade, and if Jarrod was fool enough to—

As the doorknob began to turn, Nick quit his internal rant and stopped pacing. In a split second, his gun was cocked and leveled, fully prepared to fire if Jake Kyles or one of his scruffy sons had dared to sneak onto Barkley property twice in one night. But it wasn't Jake or Emmett or Frank; it was Jarrod. The same Jarrod Nick had known all his life – or thought he'd known up until an hour ago. He knew he should uncock his weapon or at least point it anywhere else but dead center, but Nick couldn't bring his fingers to do it. Instead he set his jaw and kept his pistol trained on his older brother with every step the man took closer to Heath, watching intently to see what Jarrod planned to do. The moment the lawyer reached Heath's bedside then stretched out a hand to straighten the covers, Nick stepped forward out of the shadows.

_**"Don't ... touch him."**_

A startled Jarrod recovered quickly. With just enough light from the hallway spilling into the room, he noted the gun pointed at his midsection as well as the hostile set to his brother's face. Not for a moment did he believe Nick would really hurt him so he pursed his lips sardonically, nodding once at the pistol in Nick's hand. "Well?" he asked. "You mind putting that thing away?"

Nick's expression didn't change. "Why should I?" he asked. "You're an honorary member of the Kyles family now, aren't you, Jarrod? Maybe you're here to finish the job your new pa and brothers started tonight."

"For heaven's sake, Nick. Don't be foolish."

The man in question uncocked his gun then shoved it back into his holster. "Now isn't _that_ calling the kettle black. What's more foolish, Counsellor? Me defending Heath, or you defending a man whose family threatens to ship your little sister off to China and nearly burns a whole through your kid brother with a branding iron?" As Jarrod turned from him in exasperation, Nick marched to his side and spun him back around. "Korby Kyles is guilty, Jarrod! He's as guilty as—"

"When it's proven in a court of law, Nick!" Jarrod tore his arm loose and turned once again to Heath, but Nick boxed his hand away before he could make contact.

_"I told you not to touch him."_

"Cut it out, Nicholas. He's my brother too."

"Is he? Is he really?"

"Of course he is! I care about him just the same as you do!"

_"No, you don't! You can't after what I heard tonight!"_

That her two oldest sons were mere seconds away from exchanging blows right there over a no longer slumbering Heath was very clear to Victoria Barkley as she stepped into the room. She swished over to stand between them and placed a firm hand on each heaving chest.

"All right, that's enough. If your goal with all this yelling was to wake your brother completely, you have succeeded. Both of you go to bed and get some sleep. It's far too late for a discussion such as this."

Like Jarrod, Nick flushed as he looked down at Heath. So much for his internal vow to watch over the boy so he could rest in safety. This wasn't at all the kind of argument Heath needed to overhear right now, probably not ever.

"Heath, Mother, we—"

Victoria didn't let him finish. "Was I unclear, Nicholas? I said your brother needs his rest."

A chilled tone such as this was not to be argued with, both Nick and Jarrod had learned that early as children. They exchanged a stiff glance then left without argument, but in the hallway after they had closed the door behind them, their temporary truce ended. As Nick immediately opened his mouth to spare another piece of his mind, Jarrod held a hand up, his focus unwavering.

"Nick, what you heard downstairs tonight was me doing my level best to get to the truth before even more people get hurt. I don't have a choice but to defend Korby Kyles."

"And I'm telling you that's a lie," Nick retorted. "You could just as easily choose to stand by Heath, Jarrod, but you'd rather go off on one of your crusades, looking for innocence in a man guiltier than Judas. Korby is a—"

"It's not that simple, Nick!"

"In my world it is." Nick jabbed a finger at the floor. "Jake Kyles and his boys aren't worth the dirt on my boots here, and they're sure not worth a one of Colonel Ashby or even a tenth of our brother in there."

"I agree with you," Jarrod snapped in irritation, "but for the love of heaven, think a minute! Suppose Heath is somehow mistaken, suppose he didn't really catch the right man. What if Korby is innocent this one time and Heath's testimony hangs him for a crime he never actually committed? Don't you want me to find out what truly happened before Korby is executed and his family really have cause for revenge? Don't you want me to save Heath before he makes a terrible mistake?"

Nick shook his head as his upper lip curled. "You can suppose anything you like, Pappy, but Heath knows Korby's guilty and so I do I, so know this. When that murder trial starts next week and we Barkleys are in the courtroom just like we always are whenever you're strutting your smarts in front of a judge, I'm not gonna be there for you this time." Nick jerked a thumb at Heath's closed door. "I'm gonna be there for him and him alone, you got that?"

Jarrod said nothing at first. He stared into Nick's eyes and felt the pain of a rift he'd never imagined might grow between the two of them, dismayed that a desire for truth and justice could lead to a schism so large. Finally, he stepped back and offered a fleeting smile. "That's your privilege, Brother Nick. Good night."

Nick didn't reply. He watched Jarrod turn from him and walk down the hall to his own room, his back unnaturally straight as he rounded the corner. Nick looked after him angrily for a moment but then buried his conscience and fixed his gaze on his mother as she exited Heath's room.

"How is he? Is he asleep?"

Victoria thought of chasing this stubborn son of hers to bed, but gave up on the idea just as soon as it came to her. "No, he's even more wide awake than before," she said. "And he's asking for you."

"Good. I'm gonna go keep him company." At the look he was given, Nick flashed his dimples. "Don't worry, Mother. I promise I won't keep him up long."

"You need your rest as well."

"I know and I'll get some another day. Tonight, I intend to be ready if any of those mangy Kyles' comes back for Heath."

"You really think they'll try something again so soon?"

As Victoria's hand reached out to clutch his own, Nick squeezed her silk-covered arm in reassurance. "No, but I'm not taking any chances." He leaned in quick to peck the top of her head. "Night, Mother."

And with that Nick was gone, his deep voice now a murmur as it mixed with Heath's in private. Victoria lingered awhile longer then drifted towards her own rooms, pondering the harsh words Nick and Jarrod had exchanged. More than any other fight the Barkley family had been involved in thus far, this trial was going to test their bonds of blood. It would either reinforce them as they ought to be ... or rent them completely and create a harsh divide between her sons. Which it would be, Victoria prayed she already knew, but was it enough? Deep down did the Jarrod, Nick and Heath know it too?

_They must. _Victoria thought with determination. _This trial will __**not**__ be the end of my family!_


End file.
